


Specter

by rw_eaden



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Related, Gen, Implied abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 19:18:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6091312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's inner perspective of the events at the end of 11x14.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Specter

**Author's Note:**

> If you have not seen 11x14 you will probably be confused. The events of this fic take place in between the discovery of Lucifer and the final scene on the pier.

Looking back at the main room of the bunker, the place where they had been researching, talking, laughing, just hanging on to some semblance of normal home life, Sam couldn’t help but feel it now looked cold and alien. The muscles in Sam’s arms tightened and his lungs constricted ever so slightly just standing alone in the room. He couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder once in a while, and every distant tick of a clock and rumbling of a pipe set his nerves on edge. The spell Lucifer had been casting had been cleaned up and the tables and chairs were all back in their places. Only the faint red tinge of his blood on the middle pillar remained, and even then it was hard to see from a distance. But the room itself was off. It was as if there was a ghost hanging in the air. Of course, if it were a ghost, it could be dealt with, but this – this couldn’t. Not yet at least. 

Dean had insisted on driving the four hours in silence. The radio stayed off the entire time and only the occasional sniffle from Dean or the thudding of tires against the neglected back roads broke the thick silence. After his shower, Dean grumbled something about driving to Kansas City and Sam volunteered to tag along. Dean didn’t fight it. He didn’t even shrug. Perhaps he knew that Sam needed time out of the bunker just as much as he did, perhaps he wanted company, or perhaps he just didn’t care. Either way, they both needed the time away.

Thirty minutes past the Kansas City border, Dean pulled the car onto a dirt road and parked a few yards away from a dilapidated old pier. He got out of the car without a word and walked towards the dock, wiping his face. He across the bank of the river, kicking at the rocks and chuncks of wood that had fallen from the pier and washed ashore. Sam let him walk up the pier alone, waiting for his brother to burst into some kind of screaming rage or guttural sobs. He did neither. He sat down on a cement block, his back to the car and made no audible noise. Sam eased the door of the Impala open just a bit, careful not to let the door squeal. He took a deep, staggered breath and the stench of rancid mud and algae hit him. 

Dean was still sitting here, his shoulder hunched and head hung low. Sam was unsure whether or not join him. There had already been enough silence between them over the past few hours, but what would there really be to say? Maybe he could start with all the things that they had left unsaid over the past few years, all the things surrounding Cas, but it hardly seemed appropriate. Cas, the steady, dependable Cas, who always wanted to do what was right, always wanted to help, always there for both of them – but especially for Dean, always ready and willing to give up his life, had finally done just that.   
When he was a child, Sam used to fear his death. He used to worry about waking up one night, the police coming into the motel room and sitting Dean and him down to tell them their father was dead. As he grew he feared being there the moment his father was ripped to shreds by some nasty thing. Then the day came when he found his father dead on the hospital tile without warning. It hurt about a million times worse than he had imagined. And then, when he found out the reason, well, it was hard not to hate him. Hard, but not impossible. But when the day came, and he died the first time, it wasn’t as bad as he had thought. Sure, it was frightening to feel himself fading, to hear Dean’s cracking voice echo in his ears as the world around went dark, but, in the end, it was like blowing out a candle. Once it was over, there was no more fear, no more pain, no more anything. No, compared to so many other things, dying was easy. It was easy every single time. 

If only Cas was dead. Death would have been so much nicer, so much neater. It would hurt, of course, and Dean would be miserable, but, at least, he wouldn’t be haunting them the way he was now. They wouldn’t have Lucifer parading around in Cas’s skin, getting close to them, desecrating their home, their space, his soul. Sam’s stomach churned and he placed his hand over it. Lucifer had done it again, but this time, he wasn’t the only one who had been violated. The bastard had to pay for everything he had done to them, for the apocalypse, for all those years in the cage, for the visions, and now for Cas. But could they do it? Could he really kill his brother’s best friend? Could Dean? No, not as long as there was hope. Cas was able to hold him back, but could he do it again? If he could certainly an angel could. But would he even want to?   
Dean was still sitting silent and alone. It was time to put away all these thoughts for now. They could discuss what to do about Lucifer later. There was no point in worry about him at the moment. He was in the wind. For now, at least, Lucifer couldn’t hurt him. Right now, there was only one person he needed to worry about. 

Sam raised himself out of the car and walked over to his brother.


End file.
